


He is my... ''manservant''

by viflow



Series: YOU RAISE ME UP [3]
Category: Merlin (TV), Merthur - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Arthur decides to take a bath with Merlin there, Arthur is a Prat, BUT HE IS A PRAT IN LOVE, Canon Era, Hand Jobs, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, mostly shameless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 08:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viflow/pseuds/viflow
Summary: Merlin wasn’t speaking to him since then.Alright, that wasn't entirely true. He said yes Sire and as you wish Sire, with a hint of sarcasm and a pinch of insolence, because that’s Merlin for you. Because after all these years of suffering and hardship to endure the presence of the most incompetent manservant alive, on the top of it all, Arthur was also forced into the acceptance of the fact that it’d take (a mind you) highly treacherous, and entirely not (yet) legitimate miracle to get Merlin anywhere near resembling deference.





	He is my... ''manservant''

‘’You're wrong, Merlin. I don't need anyone.'' He said to Merlin in response, when Merlin offered his help, having the audacity to claim himself to be Arthur's friend. ''I can't afford that luxury. The kingdom's my responsibility now. Mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that.’' He said with a weight and finality in his tone.

Though, never did feel Arthur like words were bleach in his mouth, but every word he uttered to Merlin was burning the inside of his mouth, spreading down and marring his throat.

Merlin wasn’t speaking to him since then.

Alright, that wasn't entirely true. He said yes Sire and as you wish Sire, with a hint of sarcasm and a pinch of insolence, because that’s Merlin for you. Because after all these years of suffering and hardship to endure the presence of the most incompetent manservant alive, on the top of it all, Arthur was also forced into the acceptance of the fact that it’d take (a mind you) highly treacherous, and entirely not (yet) legitimate miracle to get Merlin anywhere near resembling deference.

And Arthur’d absolutely, one hundred percently refused to take offense at the fact that Merlin wasn't throwing at him any insolent barb. In no way was he intimated whatsoever by the way Merlin stood: stiff like a faint example of a proper servant, staring up at Arthur with cool, nonchalant eyes. And even if… he did smile, it was insincere, small and tight.

Not like Arthur would notice.  Because quite obviously his self esteem and mood has not been balancing for the past couple years on a sliding scale of just how wide and bright Merlin’s smile was at any given time. Nor has he ever been compelled to measure the amount of shinning streaks of sunshine reflecting in those blue-blue eyes.

Instead, as the recent situation commanded, glancing away, he was focusing, hard, to being a distant, consequent, heavy handed, strict but far- minded King.

‘’If that’s all, my Lord...’’ Merlin said, his voice maybe a bit chillier than usual. Not that Arthur would notice that either. But in any case, for the future, he made a mental note to carve out the part of his soul that allowed that funny little sting around his chest.

Right. A distant, consequent, heavy handed, strict but far- minded King.

But damn it, how could Merlin not understand? He had to understand. As a king he couldn’t be weak. He couldn’t show mercy to Camelot’s enemies. He had a duty—a responsibility—to stay strong and merciless if it was for the good of his Kingdom. After his father’s death the decisions he made were crucial. And any further closeness and friendship between him and Merlin too, was so out of the realm of possibility now, he’d wondered how could he ever let it even considered possible.

Just for a quick glimpse his eyes shot to Merlin. And that icy-hot spike of fear that shot through Arthur’s stomach then slowly but insistently spread through the place on the left behind his rib cage at Merlin’s cool, impersonal gaze, wasn’t anything close to resembling a heartache.

He raked his fingers through his hair, then storming to his pitcher he washed his face, mostly to give his slightly trembling, restless hands something to do.

He lingered as long as he could, but when the skin of his face was raw and slightly painful from the long, through scabs of the drying cloth, he didn’t have a choice, but to look up.

He blinked very slowly before raising his eyes to meet Merlin’s across the room, who with his hands clasped behind his back, stood stiffly by the door, clearly eager to make his escape.

His eyes met and locked with Merlin’s, and Arthur tried to swallow around the sudden dryness in his mouth at the way Merlin's gaze searched his face.

How in the hell did Merlin do that? How did he manage to make Arthur doubtful, to make him start questioning everything, he thought was right.

But what if in this case he really wasn't? What if he was in a terrible, terrible wrong?

He swore and slid his palms over his face. For a long second, he stood there like a damned idiot before he opened his mouth, probably to further cement the ground of why their hardly, really, ever existed friendship was possible no more from now on. He took a deep breath, closed his mouth, then wrenched it open again only enough to rasp it out.

“Well… That's said.”

Merlin’s eyebrows drew up high into his hairline, just as impolite as the person they were attached to, while he was regarding Arthur closely.

Arthur’s legs, of their own volition, shifted awkwardly under that unbearable, familiar scrutiny, because Merlin looking at him like that wasn’t something he’d handle for long amounts of time.

He scratched the back of his neck, then made a vague gesture toward the door of his chamber. ‘’You are free to go for now.’’

Because, damn it, he didn’t want that conversation, so he shouldn’t have that conversation. And in no way was he expected to explain anything to Merlin.

Anyway, what the Hell did Merlin know of a burden ship of a Kingdom?

 _More than you._ But Arthur pushed that annoying voice quickly away. So, with a chilly gaze and a properly imperious tone, he liked to think anyway, he ordered Merlin around.

‘’I’m going to check on the knights. When I’m back, I want to have a bath.’’ And yet, if every word felt like it was scraped out of Arthur’s throat, it was nobody’s damn business.

Merlin lifted his chin and said in a perfectly indifferent, respectful manner, ‘’As you wish my Lord. I’m living to serve you.’’ He said cold and tight.

But for a moment there and gone again there was that familiar glimmer of sarcasm in Merlin’s eyes and for that moment Arthur was caught off guard. Which was stupid and totally bad showing. So, he shook it off, and after a short, rigid nod he stormed to his door.

And so, when he finally made his exit, banging the door behind him closed maybe with more force than necessary, the slight cracking Arthur felt in his chest was due to the utter shock for once experiencing Merlin’s manservant’s facilitates all the way up, almost nearing standard, and most definitely, not due to the way the sunshine, once again, wormed its way off Merlin’s face.

………..

A couple of hours later Arthur’s nose was wrinkling as the stench of the afternoon’s activities leached out of his skin. Well, nothing was better to distract your weak, foolish mind and disable the temper inside than a good fight, Arthur thought with a tired complement.

With slightly more vigor than before, he rounded the corner of the Hall to the way of his chamber. Then with his heart all at once kicking double time, he came to a sudden, rigid halt.

Bloody hell! His mouth flattened into a thin line. His hand, of its own volition, curled into a tight fist against the sides of his tights. True, he’d told Merlin to stay away, but he’d most definitely never ordered nor in anyway had he hinted or instructed Merlin to do _that._

Because, there he was! His good for nothing manservant, leaning toward with a broad, stupid, flirtatious smile on his face, those ridiculously blue eyes locked with a blushing, adoring maidservant’s gaze, just existing Arthur’s room. A long-longer moment later than Arthur considered proper, the girl bid farewell to Merlin, accompanied with a kiss to his cheeks, then passing by Arthur with a suspiciously flaming face she gave him a deep bow then scurried away on her way.

Black clouds darkened Arthur’s mood. Black thunderclouds.

He couldn’t think.

He could barely breathe.

His heart was hammering in his chest, his mind totally spun out of control as he was storming toward his chamber.

Leon, attached to his sides started to say something, but like the man of considerable reason and common sense of his own welfare as he was, obviously thinking better of it, he quickly slammed his mouth closed.

He would deal with Leon later, Arthur thought, after he found out what the Hell was going on. If Merlin thought he could spend his working time with dalliance… and God knows what else—

Arthur’s stomach felt like it's been stabbed by an invisible knife. God’s bones, was that really what has just happened there… And no less, in _his_ chamber—

Sending Leon away with a deep growl and an irritated hand wave, then getting rid of in a slightly more arrogant way of the two guards keeping watch over the passageway to his room, he stormed inside through his still wide opened door, steeling himself for what he might find.

 

There was nothing in Merlin’s appearance to contradict Arthur’s suspicions. In fact, it was the opposite.

He was seating on a stool next to Arthur’s bathtub, his usually pale cheeks flushed maybe from the hot steam and damp air of Arthur’s bath— or maybe from something altogether different activity…

As Arthur entered, Merlin glanced up with an entirely shady, one might even say, guilty look. And when his eyes met Arthur’s... Well, for a long moment, the roof of the castle could’ve caved in and Arthur wouldn’t have noticed, because after days of abstain, he was too focused on the almost- genuine smile on Merlin's face.

But then the scrape of the chair legs on the floor when Merlin stood up brought Arthur out of that weird trance, and he shook his head at himself. When he glanced back at Merlin, his eyes were cool again, even a hint of a smile has been wiped away.

“What was that girl doing in here?” Arthur asked, ignoring the way his voice came out louder, angrier and more accusing than the situation warranted.

Merlin’s eyes widened and then narrowed with a glint of… something. “What do you think she was doing?” he asked, then gave a flip of his head toward Arthur’s bath. “I needed help with your bath.”

Damned if Merlin wasn’t pulling his strings. Arthur crossed the distance between them in a blink, grabbing Merlin’s tunic and hauling him up angrily against him. “Do you think this is a jest? I assure you it is not. What you do in your free time is not my business unless for once, you actually do, what you're supposed to do as my bloody manservant!’’ He was shouting now, because … just because.

Merlin’s eyes flared with something Arthur couldn’t really place, but before he’d time to decipher it Merlin’s whole demandeur switched to cool and once again, _soooo_... bloody distant.

“Please accept my apologies, my Lord, but she was in here only to help me with fetching water for your bathe as your Highness requested earlier.”

The strain of manners was tearing at Arthur's chest, and Merlin’s icy composure was grating against his already flared nerves like sand on an open wound.

He glanced toward the bath, an idea taking form. He unconsciously licked his lips and swallowed hard around the sudden dryness in his mouth.Then he stepped back, a slow smile curving his lips. “Oh, yes. What a brilliant idea.”

Without Merlin’s help he jerked the mail coif over his head and tossed it on the floor. Next came the thick leather tunic. By the time he got to the linen shirt underneath, Merlin’s eyes were two full moons.

“W-what are you d-doing?”

“Taking a bath.” He finished pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it on top of the others.

‘’Taking a bath.’’ Merlin confirmed stiltedly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He knew, has known it for a long time know, that Merlin had a keen sense of selective comprehension. Basically, Merlin kept the idiot ball in his pocket at all times, in case he thought something wasn’t going to play to his advantage.

It was a pretty good trick, Arthur had to admit, as it had worked many times not only during his father’s reign, but even strategically during live or die situations when their enemies- often to their great, great detriment- underestimated his simpleton looking manservant. And if he wanted to be honest, which he usually tried to avoid like a plague if it came to Merlin, Arthur’d to admit that to _some_ level he was also a sucker, who, on _occasions_ didn’t mind being played and found himself strangely endeared by Merlin’s idiot acting games.

But the fright mixing with confusion in those impossibly blue eyes now, seemed all the way genuine, for once. And Arthur’ll never admit out loud that either, how the deepening flush that had pinked Merlin’s cheeks, made something predatory rise up in Arthur’s insides.

Alright, after all these years, he hasn’t quite managed yet to build up an immunity to the way Merlin’s eyes darkened when they slowly traveled over Arthur’s bare chest. But at least by now, Arthur was almost nearing it, and he even stopped feeling personally victimized by the way how hard he’d to work on his saliva glands to keep working because his mouth stubbornly, insistently tended to running dry. But not by any stretch of the imagination has he yet succeeded to build up an efficient, persistent defense against the feel of Merlin’s fingertips on his skin. He still vividly remembered the initial shock over his excitement when Merlin’s fingers came into contact with his skin for the first time. But well, whatever, he wasn’t made of stone.

He licked his lips again, watching Merlin how a cat watches a bird flapping around from its perch on a fence, paving the way for the smirk he let sliding onto his face.

“Yes, a bath Merlin,” He said, tone casually mocking enough they might as well be talking about Merlin serving him his breakfast. “It would be very ungrateful of me to let all your hard work going to waste.”

Merlin’s got eyes on Arthur like a dear in a bunch of torchlight, but the weight of his stare and the witticism coating his tone was impossible to miss. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me, my Lord,” he gritted out.

His eyes were wide and bright, not the sparkling blue-bright of happiness at something unexpected Arthur’d made to his likeness, but the flaming, burning kind of bright. He wasn’t physically moving, but he was vibrating with a contained, fiery energy all the same, that was leaking out of him, sliding into the stone and glass and the air itself around them, making the room crackle with tension. Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised if even the hairs on his arms were standing at attention.

Arthur exhaled hard, once, twice, glancing down at his pants, praying to God that his cock should not decide to start building a tent in that moment, since he was experiencing, mind you, not for the first time, as the adrenaline in his system made a U-turn, sinuously slithering down to lower regions, because obviously over the years he's  developed a kink at the badly hidden display of all Merlin's raw powers.

He let that that smirk from before make it’s way onto his face. “Don’t mention it.’’ He said with a nonchalant hand gesture like he was doing Merlin a favor.

“Oh.” Merlin blinked, not meeting Arthur’s intent gaze. He swallowed, then taking a deep breath, gestured towards Arthur’s steaming tub. “In this case…” he said, voice slightly wavering, slowly moving toward the door, a shifty move if Arthur’s ever seen one, “Your bath as always, warm and fragrant, waiting for you my Lord.’’

  
And because obviously all Arthur’s higher faculties were already nestled somewhere south between his legs, without properly thinking it through, he said. ’’Close the door,‘’ and as Merlin was just about to step through it, too quick, too loud he added, ‘’Oh, no Merlin. You’re to stay.’’

With his back to Arthur, Merlin froze for a second, then banging the door closed, he quickly swirled around, looking like he just got struck by lightning.

Uh,” he shook his head, back supported by the door. ‘’I fear there might be something wrong with my ears because for a second, I thought I heard you say-’’

“No!” Arthur cut him off. His cock has calmed down enough he could safely stand now, drawing himself up to his full height, speaking in his well-practiced, most authorative manner. Not that it has ever had any effect on his manservant, but among his numerous virtues, stubbornness and persistence was one of Arthur’s strongest streaks. ‘’You heard me perfectly right, Merlin, you are to stay. I have not given you permission to leave.‘’

Merlin eyes narrowed, examining Arthur’s face with a crease between his brows, ‘’Arthur, you’re about to take a bath.’’ He said slowly in a tone like he was speaking to a particularly deliberate child.

‘’Yes. I know that Merlin.’’ Arthur said with a sickly pleasant tone and an eye roll. Then he slowly strolled toward Merlin and coming to a halt before him, he gingerly patted him on the shoulder. ‘’And let be honest, as we both know you’re the worst manservant alive, but still, after all these years, I thought, even you might be familiar with the concept of a bath.”

For a second Merlin looked offended. ‘’Of course I’m familiar— ‘’ He started in a petulant voice, but when Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and raised a royal brow, eyes widening, he cut himself off. And Arthur watched him taking in the weight and meaning of his words.

A pang of guilt shot through him like an arrow at the misery on Merlin’s face, but then he _was_ definitely offended at the way Merlin’s entire forehead twisted in almost comical horror. _God, Merlin behaved like Arthur looked like a monster._

A harsh breath escaped Merlin’s chest. ‘’You really want it—‘’ He gulped, ‘’With me—here?” he gaped. “You can’t.”

“I assure you I can.” Arthur’s voice cracked on the last words, and maybe it came out a little huskier than normal. And if there was a reason why he thought that he and Merlin, his manservant — and as he’s just recently and meticulously outlaid- why not best friend anymore— could never be a thing, like an Arthur/Merlin thing, he was kind of blanking on those reasons right now. He knew he had reasons. Good ones, strong ones. He just needed to remember that, but he couldn't, so he even added. ‘’And you are going to help me.”

“What?!’’ Merlin’s voice came out a little too high. He swallowed, hard. “What do you mean, ‘help you’?”

With a long sigh Arthur rolled his eyes, then threw his arms open wide in an exasperated way while with a challenge in his eyes he held Merlin’s gaze.

He’s known Merlin long enough to know that given time it was going about to became less of a shyness thing than of a pride thing, because for all Merlin’s ( faked- because Arthur knew it better than believe in it’s genuineness) humbleness, there was nothing Merlin hated more than letting himself be bested in a war of wills. ( Though, truth be told, he usually managed to do that all by himself, because just like Arthur said, Merlin was a dumbass.)

And… just like expected, Merlin wasn’t protesting any further. He closed his gaping mouth, then wrenched it open again only enough to eek out a hoarse, “Yes, Sire,” maybe because by that time Arthur was down to his pants. And with one quick pull of the ties, those were gone as well, and he was standing naked before Merlin.

 

Merlin went completely still. Except for his eyes, which were definitely moving. Yes, Arthur was acutely aware of the slow travel of Merlin’s lowering gaze. And he couldn’t help the feel as if Merlin’s eyes were touching him— stroking him— singeing a trail of fire on his skin, down his chest, over every band of stomach muscle, to the narrow path of blond hair that led to…

Merlin sucked in a deep breath, and his eyes widened to a size of a sauce pan as he took Arthur in. All of him.

It took some time.

Red palm prints of color stained his cheeks, but he didn’t look away. The latent sensuality of his gaze, the unabashed, maddening curiosity filled Arthur with heat. His muscles tensed of their own accord, a natural reaction to being the recipient of so thorough, unabashed staring.

Staring was putting it mildly.

Gorging was closer.

Self restraint be damned, his muscles tensed of their own accord as his cock jumped fully back on board, starting to swell and thicken under the heat of so much naked, raw appreciation.

Who in Hell was he kidding? It wasn’t a matter of appreciation. It was Merlin’s… _His_ appreciation.

Arthur was used to people staring at him. They’d done so since he was a child. It annoyed, amused, interested, inspired him by turns. But none of those looks had ever left him so breathless and hot, none of them inspired him to such stupid, reckless lengths to see approval reflecting in them, and none of them made him ever flex and strut around like some damned peacock-- than this clear, penetrating blue stare that hinted at all sorts of elusive emotions and pierced it’s way straight to Arthur’s soul. Even when against everything he’s been brought up, on occasions (mostly, the life saving ones) those irises were flaring up with magic and changing into shinning golden.

Unfortunately as once more Arthur found himself betrayed by his own dick, he found out quick, that not letting on that you have a raging erection when standing naked as born before that very person, was a problem that was equal to zero to solve or hide.

And as it was his luck, Merlin didn’t tear his eyes away until with a nonchalant shrug but a straight back, though maybe a bit awkward steps, Arthur walked to his tub and sank into the magically sustained warmth of his bath.

 

The tub was just big enough for him to be able to dunk his head. He came back up, hair slicked back, already feeling better. Sitting back, he slung his arms over the edge before he allowed himself to glance at Merlin.

Seemingly frozen in place, Merlin was standing exactly in the same spot, staring at Arthur as if he couldn’t believe his very own eyes, apparently still wagging a fight or fly war inside. But after a long seconds of debate, he’s started to look, really look again, seemingly particularly fascinated with the rivulets of water streaming down Arthur’s chest and upper arms.

The cooling water wasn’t enough to stop Arthur from hardening further. If he weren’t still inexplicably angry, or if his ego wasn’t still ruffled from Merlin’s besotted gaze to that girl, he might have debated the wisdom of pressing this further. But he was still angry and still ruffled behind logical explanation— angry enough to play with fire, so he quirked a brow.

“Well? Are you going to hover there till sunrise or you’re going to fetch the soap?”

His eyes scanned Merlin’s face, those maddening lips, slithering down to that slim white neck that from the first moment they met, begged to be touched and tasted. _Bloody hell, get a hold on yourself,_ Arthur growled internally as the breath was punching out of his chest. His whole body was aflame. Even his toes were curling in the water, while he was trying to remind himself of all the reasons it could never become more than his most guarded, secret imaginations.

Slowly he lifted his eyes to meet Merlin's, and he could see the way he hesitated.

Arthur’d never expected Merlin to do it.

Honestly? He’d thought that Merlin’d refuse and tell him to go to hell.

He should have known better.

After all, it was Merlin.

Who’d-- just like Arthur's said before-- more stubborn pride than sense and would not back down from a challenge.

Teeth clamped and eyes narrowed with determination, Merlin stomped over to the tub to fetch the cloth, and then leaned over Arthur’s body to grab the soap. He knelt beside the tub, plunged his hand into the water (too damned close to a part of Arthur that was aching for attention) to dampen the cloth, and after a vigorous rub of the soap, proceeded to wash Arthur’s back with equally vigorous scrubs.

When Merlin stood up, his torso was lined up along Arthur’s back, a solid mass of heat against him. And Arthur let out a long exhale as another wave of arousal coursed through his system.

Merlin shifted against Arthur’s back, moving so that he could scrub his arm, then he stopped and gasped. “Arthur what the hell happened? What have you done to the knights? Were you completely out of your mind? God, I fear to think how they must look if even your arms are bruised.” 

“Your concern for _my_ welfare is _touching_ Merlin.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m like one hundred percent sure it wasn’t any of the knights who--”

“Shut up Merlin,” but when Merlin made a harrumphed sound and opened his mouth in answer to that, not wanting more scolding, “Now.” Arthur added.

Making a show of it, Merlin clumped his mouth shut and resumed his scrubbing. There was nothing sensual in his touch, nothing erotic, but still it affected Arthur. Hell, “affected” was putting it mildly. Just the feel, the knowledge that those hands on him were Merlin’s was driving Arthur mad. It wasn’t the first time he was bathed by a servant, but it was the first time he’d ever been so painfully aware of it.

Think those hands sliding over your skin are George’s, Arthur told himself, trying to divert the blood from the south. He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and concentrated on everything Merlin lacked and George thrived. George's meticulous, impersonal, efficient hands, his perfect, annoyingly proper manner and politeness, his cool, emotionless, bland face, his irritating eagerness to please, his damned, snobbish accent… and God, his awful jokes... But it wasn’t helping. Closing his eyes only made Arthur’s other senses work harder. He could feel the warmth radiating of Merlin’s body, the hotness of his breath as it ghosted against Arthur’s cheeks, he could smell Merlin’s enticing scent, the press of Merlin's slim but strong fingers on his skin.

Christ. He almost groaned.

He opened his eyes. Merlin's head bowed forward as he drew the cloth over Arthur’s stomach, the ends of his hair curling at his ears, and Arthur ached with longing to trail his finger through that ebony mess and wrap a strand around his finger. But at that moment, Merlin’s fingers came perilously close to the heavy head of Arthur’s cock, which hovered just beneath the water’s edge.

He couldn’t do much to hide his rapid breathing, the way the muscles in his arms and stomach jumped with effort of holding himself back. Gritting his teeth, his hand curled tightly into the edge of the tub, clutching it so hard his knuckles turned white as the urge to thrust up and grind his cock against Merlin’s hand threatened to became a very devastating and humiliating possibility. He was just about to put an end to his own torment, when Merlin lifted his gaze to his.

And as soon as red cheeked but with a certainly devilish glint in his eyes Merlin’s fingers slid over Arthur’s bicep and he asked with a sly, curving smile, “Does this please you, my lord?” Arthur knew he was in trouble.

Not that he wasn’t before, but it was him, flying over that cliff.

“I…” he momentarily lost all ability to speak as he glanced up into Merlin’s face.

Merlin was staring down at him, watching him with darkened eyes as his fingers slid all over Arthur’s chest. His lips part parted, his tongue darted out unconsciously to lick them, and with watering mouth Arthur's eyes followed the movement with his sword’s sharpness and preciseness.

Merlin’s mouth, plump, red and inviting came tantalizingly close to Arthur’s as he murmured, “Pardon me. I couldn’t quite hear you my Lord.’’ Merlin leaned in closer, his breath ghosting along the shell of Arthur’s ear, “What was it you wanted to say?” He asked quietly, lips so close to Arthur’s ear now, Arthur couldn’t help the whole body shudder. Then the smirk on Merlin's face spread as he trailed his fingertips briefly, featherlight along Arthur’s neck and back, before circling around the tub to get to Arthur’s other side.

  
Arthur’s barely had time to realize, holy shit, he’s been countered by his own game, when his dick twitched and swell further to a painful level so quick he felt dizzy with it.

His higher faculties grew further and further away, like he’s pushed them off the same time he’s jumped from the top of that high cliff. They were still echoing in his head but now, only barely there. All those years of rationalizing, avoiding and repressing suddenly seemed so ridiculous and unimportant in light of Merlin’s touch.

Arthur knew he was playing with a dangerous fire now. The heat that sprang between them had just notched up quite a few degrees, making the air sizzling around them. But the annoying steadiness of Merlin’s voice while Arthur was still trying to find his own, the smugness on his face, demanded retaliation.

“I think you missed a spot below my stomach.”

Their eyes held. He could see the blue flare of temper mixed with fright, and Arthur thought he’d won. But then the edge of Merlin’s mouth curled upward and those eyes glinted with intent as he slunk the cloth back into the water with renewed determination.

And Arthur knew he’s just made an egregious mistake.

 Merlin’s movements slowed, and his hand gently started to slide the cloth over the big, hard, aching bulge between Arthur’s legs in a soft caress. “Forgive me Sire, but I’m afraid I’ve not much experience bathing men, since well… You’ve never asked this of me before.‘’

Arthur’s breath hitched and then quickened. His dick ached, begging him to rut against Merlin’s palm till he came… At this point, he was willing to bet that to his eternal embarrassment, it wouldn’t take more than a couple of strokes for Merlin to finish him off.

He swallowed hard and tried not to sound breathless when he weakly offered. “There is a first for everything, Merlin.’’ 

Their eyes met, and all the anger that had started this dangerous game fizzled away, as Merlin’s lips parted and the glare of his eyes softened and shone with arousal. Arthur’s heart made a violent thump in his chest. With the anger stripped away, he felt bare. More naked than he’d felt when he’d stripped in front of Merlin. There was no hiding how much he wanted him. No hiding how much he affected him. No hiding that the attraction between them was so strong not even he could fight it.

He didn’t have the coherence right then to say out what he wanted, but was begging Merlin with his eyes, begging for that maddening mouth to touch his own.

‘’Merlin,’’ he somehow rasped it out it, like his life might depend on the uttering of that single word. He didn’t even know why he was so angry before, what his goal had been with all this bathing thing—something about amusing himself at the expense of Merlin’s discomfort —but it certainly didn’t apply now. Now he wanted Merlin with a ferocity that was totally unprecedented. He was so fucking desperate for Merlin, he ached, fiercely ached, and was darting dangerously close to the edge where he’d practically grovel for anything Merlin was willing to give him.

With a mesmerized look Merlin was staring directly at his mouth, and Arthur was so focused on that, he didn’t even notice that Merlin’s free hand had came to rest at the back of his head, his thumb circling the skin under his jaw, until it was already there. He watched as Merlin’s eyes focused on his face like the universe has shrunk down to contain only the two of them, as he slowly lowered his head.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 Arthur’s muscles clenched as he waited for the moment of contact, for the first tentative brush of Merlin’s lips. The anticipation was nearly as sweet as—

But Arthur never could’ve braced, defended himself for the way Merlin’s mouth quite simply destroyed him. His head spun, his blood went on fast boil when Merlin crushed his mouth to his with unabashed hunger and devastating intensity. Never in his life had so many sensations battered Arthur at once. The smooth, warm demand of Merlin’s mouth taking from his, the strong, confident hands moving over the side of his neck, the smell of forest and soap of… Merlin.

His mind simply couldn’t reckon it, so his body took over. Some deep, pleased sound purred out of his throat as he unballed his fist from the tub. He curled first this hand, then sliding the other over Merlin’s wrists, arm and neck, he placed both on the side of Merlin’s cheeks as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

Merlin was trembling. He was moaning. There was nothing left of the cool, distant man Merlin had been for the last three days.

His lips were deliciously warm. Arthur could have tasted that mouth endlessly, so smooth, so soft, so silky. Some deep, guttural sound purred out of his throat. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the trembling or the heat or the sudden and baffling need to let everything he was melt into Merlin. One shock of pleasure sparked another, then another, until there was nothing else. His mind went blissfully blank with pleasure as he eased deeper, his arousal rocketing impossibly high by each throaty moan.

He slid his hands under Merlin’s tunic, and God, Merlin’s skin was searing his palm. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat as Arthur skimmed his rough palms over firm muscles of Merlin’s back then sliding forward to his chest. His thumbs scraped lightly over Merlin’s rigid nipples, and Arthur eagerly swallowed Merlin’s gasps, absorbed his shudders.

Then suddenly the arms Merlin’s twined sometime around Arthur’s neck went limp then dropped slowly to Merlin’s sides, before Merlin pulled back and straightened himself.

Arthur eased back too and leaned his head against the tub trying to catch his breath, his hands clamping on either side of it as he studied Merlin’s face.

His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed, his breath was coming just as fast and harsh as Arthur’s through lips erotically swollen from his.

Arthur thought just how devastatingly beautiful Merlin would look just like that under him, on his bed. The image of that had him gripping the wood until his fingers ached, as his stomach lurched with need.

Then Merlin opened his eyes, and he saw that they were blindly hazed, and a little bit afraid.

“Well, well, well…” Arthur said it lightly, mockingly, as much in defense as in some kind arrogant, delighted triumph. “Who would have thought your big mouth could be like this apart from all day jibbering rubbish.”

Merlin seemingly couldn’t catch his breath yet, much less form a word. He only shook his head.

“Did the cat took your tongue?” Arthur didn’t know why he was angry, but he could feel his temper building again. Building, then spiking, as Merlin stood there looking helpless, stunned, and more and more tensed. “If I knew it was all it took to get you to shut up...” He drawled, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. 

And then he was just as surprised as he was pleased, when Merlin took his shoulders firmly in his hands and turned him to face him. “You shut up this time,” he murmured, and lowering his head he sucked in and closed his teeth on the sensitive flesh of Arthur’s bottom lip. Arthur jerked up hard with a shudder that seemed to rack him from head to toe.

He moaned Merlin’s name around his teeth, his dick throbbing every time Merlin gave his lip a sharp, little nip. His hands grabbed Merlin’s waist then slid down to greedily palm his ass. Merlin bucked forward at that, his grip tightening on Arthur’s shoulders as he flicked his tongue over Arthur’s lips, and Arthur barely had time to think that shamefully, he was probably gonna end up coming like this, when Merlin’s tongue was sliding past his lips, pressing inside his mouth, and putting his own tongue to work, Arthur pressed and circled it against Merlin's, inviting more of him in.

Merlin slid and pressed his thumb down at the edge of Arthur’s lips, and if Arthur thought he was salivating before, the feeling of Merlin inside him, even if it was just his tongue, Merlin's thumb slightly rubbing the skin of his mouth, was enough to make a pool gathering in his mouth and see stars behind his tightly closed lids.

  
The angle of their head wasn’t perfect, the lack of air was tearing at his chest, but like hell, was he going to fuss about it and stop it, until Merlin did.

When a couple seconds later Merlin tore away his head and dropped his forehead to the place between Arthur’s shoulder and neck, he wasn’t faring much better.

His chest was heaving, he was panting hard, his breath had been obviously lost to a place where Arthur’s went missing sometimes during their first round of kissing. His hands where shaking a little as he stroke them through Artur’s hair.

’What the Hell do you really want, Arthur?’’ He murmured into Arthur’s skin.

And because Merlin’s fingers felt wonderful in his hair, and because his cock was still rock hard and his body still continued to suffer from quick, tiny explosions of pleasure, and because he was long past caring about his pride because he knew pride wouldn’t get him the mind-melting, desperate, I’ve been waiting for bloody years for this level of orgasm, he was not entirely sure he’s ever even experienced before, but the tension coiling furiously in his abdomen definietly demanded. So, when after swallowing hard he opened his mouth, it never crossed his mind to lie.

‘’You. I want you.’’ Still breathless he whispered the words that were tripping themselves in their haste onto his tongue.

Merlin slowly pulled back, their eyes met, and Merlin smile was blinding. Arthur felt something jam in his chest. Something big and powerful and important. Something that should have gave him a pause but then Merlin’s smile slowly curled upwards with a challenging glint in his eyes.

Christ! Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin as the heel of Merlin’s hand grazed the weeping tip of his aching dick. He groaned as sensations exploded from every nerve ending. Holly shit! There was nothing as powerful and destructive as the feel of Merlin’s hand over his dick. And when he covered him with his palm… Arthur prayed and gave thanks to every god he’d ever heard of, even to a few nameless ones for his strength. Biting back the pleasure, he had to fight the urge to thrust up into Merlin’s hand.

Merlin shot him a look that had all the nerves doubling back and sizzling. ‘’Tell me what you want,” he demanded low, studying Arthur’s face. ‘’What you want me to do.’’He said, his voice gentled.

Arthur didn’t know if he could; every muscle in his body was clenched too tightly. Hell, he could have bounced rocks off his ass and stomach.

“Your hand,” he managed through gritted teeth, ‘’I want your hand on me."

He groaned, surging into Merlin’s hold at the first press of his fingers closing around him. When Merlin’s thumb slid over the head of his cock, his blood pulsed from the blast of pleasure, so intense, that had he been standing, it would have brought him to his knees.

Then Merlin started to explore him by sliding those absurdly delicate fingers along Arthur's rock-hard length in a soft caress, and without thinking about it, greedily, Arthur’s hand came forward to shamelessly curl and wrap it around the back of Merlin’s hand. Properly securing Merlin’s hand over his cock, he threaded their fingers together, tightening his grip on those long fingers, and in response, Merlin pressed down harder and gave an experimental up and down stroke of his fist. And this time Arthur couldn’t hold back his hips from trusting upwards, fucking himself through their joined hands, and he couldn’t be bothered by the guttural and needy groan that escaped him. A sloppy thing that was torn out of his chest without his permission. But at this point the squeeze in his gut was so primal, animalistic, consuming, he just really couldn’t be bothered by it.

‘’God, Merlin, you’re killing me.’’ He moaned, pushing upwards, trying to get more, as pleasure ricocheted through him like pinballs.

‘’Stroke me, Merlin, stroke me harder please.’’ He whispered.

And he did. Quite effectively. The press of his strong, slender fingers around him, squeezing, milking, was too perfect. The pressure was too intense. A few hard pumps, and a sensation like a blast shot through Arthur's spine, lighting him up from the inside out, then gathering at the base and hammering so hard it hurt just to hold it back. Shit, Arthur swore, recognizing the feeling. Just like he thought, he wasn’t going to last long. He couldn’t hold back anylonger.

“That’s it. Oh God, yes, right there… I’m going to…”

He should have closed his eyes and tossed his head back. Normally, that was exactly what he did. But he wanted to see Merlin’s face. He didn’t want to miss a damned second of Merlin’s introduction to the world of his passion.

Their eyes met and held right at the moment that Merlin brought him to the very peak of pleasure. When Arthur was at his weakest.

A hard cry of pleasure tore from his lungs. He stiffened. He couldn’t turn away, not even when the spasms wracked him and he started to come. The pleasure Merlin coerced from his body seemed intensified, sharpened somehow by the connection. By a closeness he’d never felt before. By the tender, awed, almost reverent look on Merlin’s face that somehow managed to get through despite the current of owervhelming sensations wracking his body.   

For the first time in his life when Arthur took his release, it was not his alone but shared with someone else, and the experience was unlike any other. The moment too poignant, the look exchanged between them too meaningful.

He let Merlin in, maybe the second his eyes looked into those endless, cheeky blues for the first time. And when he did, by doing so, he’d let this insufferable, insolent, gorgeous, beautiful, brave, loyal, clumsy idiot slip under his carefully builded guard. Just like he feared, he knew, from this moment, his very own secret sorcerer, has ruined him for the rest of his life. Because, he’d never want anybody else. Because nobody could compare. Nobody would be enough.

And since he's been struck hard and deep by the arrow of Cupid, bowing his head to that cherub, he let all his fear, doubts and resistance go, letting in the joy of tentative happiness and thrilling anticipation of pleasures to share, the final acceptance of his inevitable path.

He looked up at Merlin, who’d sat back from the tub a little now. A deep flush stained his normally pale cheeks while he was eyeing him with an uncertain gaze and a little, almost shy smile.

A soft, buttery, aching feeling was rising in Arthur, something that brimmed through his chest, deep, bright, powerful and endless. Something that was also dangerously possessive and consuming, as it churned and spread through every vein, every part of his body.

His hand reached out, stroking over Merlin’s messy hair, face and jaw, loving and slow.

_Mine._

Holding Merlin’s gaze, Arthur grabbed his hand and kissed every tip of Merlin's powerful, magical fingers, then said with a teasing brow, “I guess we’re not even now,” pulling his cursing, insolent manservant into the tub.

**Author's Note:**

> It was sitting in my doc and was munching on it for months. But today I sat down and finally finished it.  
> Hope you like it, because jealous, oblivious, prattish Arthur is my weakness and really enjoyed writing this, as they are still my favorite OTP.


End file.
